So after a day in Panjim and a day in Old Goa, we concluded it was time to hit the beach. For the sake of immersion, we passed up taking a taxi (probably around 1500 rupees or $15, divided evenly would have been $5 a person), we took the bus (40 rupees or $.80 each). First we took the bus from Panjim to Margao, then from Margao to Palolem. The bus rides were uneventful, except on the second bus we were separated from our luggage and could not see it after the bus became packed. I was rather worried for a while that this attempt to stay “local” could end up costing us our luggage. When we arrived, however, our luggage was safe in tow.
We grabbed an auto rickshaw, which took us to the beach. As soon as we had set foot on the beach, Mike exclaimed, “What have we been doing in north India for so long?!” They had been traveling to many interesting cultural places up north, but had yet to set foot on a beach. I, on the other hand, had just arrived ten days earlier, but was still happy for the nice scenery.
After hunting for a short while, we found “Tony Cottage Cocohuts.” No, I am not making that name up. It is a collection of beach huts in a row on the beach. There is running water and a toilet in each hut, which is elevated about 3 feet off the ground. In two days, the three of us could have build a nicer hut. It had bamboo supports and plywood floors. The ceiling was bamboo supports with a tarp on top. There was about a 20 cm gap between the wall and the ceiling, and a 4 cm gap in the corners between the walls. This was nice because it virtually ensured we would have plenty of mosquitos to keep us company at night. As a kind gesture, we were given undersized mattresses and a mosquito net, which did help somewhat.
The beach was gorgeous. Palm trees everywhere, an island in the distance, and despite being one of the more “touristy” beaches, quite a lot of space for ourselves to be able to relax.
There were a couple of unique features about this beach. At least, there were a few things that I had never seen. A small river actually met up with the Arabian sea on the beach here, and there are literally millions of small crabs running around and burying themselves in the sand. This is a picture of one of the larger crabs attacking another creature in a conical shell. The first night we were there we also saw two bulls attacking each other, in a fight that lasted well over two hours. The strangest part about it was that they would occasionally lose interest and just look away from each other, before eventually resuming the fight.
Palolem proved to be a very comfortable place in some ways, as we did not have any sights to see, allowing us to relax and catch up on some reading during the day, have a few drinks and watch the sun set in the evening, and eat an extravagant meal at night for a cheap price. In a few other ways it was not quite what we had expected. We all wasted a fair amount of time trying to find a precious few things that we wanted or needed. I wanted sunglasses, shower shoes, and a backpack. I ended up buying shower shoes, and it took me 7 hours of shopping to get those and realize all of the sunglasses and backpacks were too low in quality to purchase. Mike and Sam had similar experiences looking for books, necklaces, and sunglasses for themselves. Also, the beach huts provided us with a few issues. The mosquitoes were a nuisance at night, the mattresses were almost impossible to sleep on, and there were enough crows cawing at 5 in the morning to make you wake up thinking you were in a live enactment of “Birds.” The biggest problem turned out to be coincidental to our location. All of the Indian food I had been eating since I arrived finally caught up with me. My stomach could not handle it. While at an Italian restaurant, I had to make a break for it. Afterwards, I popped a couple Immodium AD and stuck to light foods for the next day and I turned out to be ok.
Our one real adventure was getting out of Palolem. The train we wanted to Hampi left from Margao at 8 in the morning four days a week: Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Sunday. Since it was Tuesday, we made plans to take the train the next morning. Later on, Sam came back from the internet café: “Guys, it’s not Tuesday… It’s Thursday!” Well, this changed our plans. We decided to leave on Sunday, but for some reason did not book our train tickets. On Saturday evening, when we finally got around to booking it, the train was full. After talking to our Irish hut-neighbors, we agreed to split a cab with them to Margao and to buy waiting class tickets. This could mean that we would end up spending 7 (or more) hours standing on a train in 32 degree heat.
We packed up our bags the night before, woke up at 6 and hopped in the cab. We bought the tickets and somehow were able to keep seats and beds for the entire journey to Hampi. Phew. As Mike and Sam had discovered previously, the easiest way to avoid conflict with anyone on the train was to just not to acknowledge them when they talk to you and they will go away. Arguing with them does not get you anywhere. A conductor checked our tickets once and told us to move but left the cabin before we did. On his subsequent trips through the cabin, we looked away and he did not say anything. An interesting culture, indeed.
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